What Dreams May Come
by Myrielle
Summary: The Dragonborn makes a long buried wish of Erandur's come true beyond his wildest dreams.


Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda except for the smuttiness and excuse for a plot.

Summary: The Dragonborn makes a long buried wish of Erandur's come true beyond his wildest dreams.

_A/N: My Muse has suddenly turned to the Smut Side with a vengeance but I am too tired to continue my two smutty fics and I can't focus on my other stories. Argh. So I have decided to post this because, what the heck, I posted in on the kinkmeme so why not here. Please note that I tweaked some details of the quest at Nightcaller Temple. If you liked it, please leave me a review and feed the Muse. Thanks! _

**What Dreams May Come**

She was beautiful, Erandur thought wistfully as he trudged through the snow after the Dragonborn. Once again, he felt the urge to look back, to even run back into Nightcaller Temple. After all that he had done, he had no right to his life, to any joys however simple, even if it was just to be in her presence. He ought to spend his remaining years doing penance for his sins, his cowardliness. He had left his friends to die and because of him, an entire town had been left to Vaermina's untender mercies as she fed voraciously on their dreams and memories while tearing them apart with fear. There was madness in those nightmares—

"Erandur."

He blinked, realised that he had indeed turned back and was staring at the foreboding ruin. The warmth of her firm grip on his shoulders and the sound of her voice gave him the strength to turn back. Erandur flushed with guilt. 'Strength is a fine way of putting it,' he chided himself as he nodded brusquely before stomping past the black-haired, blue-eyed Nord woman to whom he had offered his services. That thought made him flush even more. She had assumed he had meant the services of a fellow warrior turned companion. And he had meant that. Truly. Only that when the words had left his mouth, he realised how they could have been misconstrued. 'But only by the perverted and lustful, and that is why she could not see your true intentions for what they are.'

Hating his skin because it was pale for a Dunmer and absolutely useless at hiding blushes, he tugged ruthlessly on the hood of his robes until it covered almost half his face. He could always claim he was seeking relief from the bright sun above and the glittering rays that smote the snow and turned the landscape into a sea of cold, blazing white. He walked on, feeling the weight of the mace at his side and the eyes of the Dragonborn on his back. "Oh Aesa," he whispered hopelessly. In his long years he had seen women of all races and from all walks of life. But she had drawn him in with gentleness when everyone else had been hostile and unbelieving. Instead of doubting, she had listened, asked questions and finally, offered her help to aid in a mission that he could not promise either of them would return from. That she was quick with her swords and smiles certainly did not hurt. She was rash and bold enough to trust him with her life while her mind departed from her body. Only one so young would be so trusting; she did not look more than twenty-five summers old. Perhaps what was most attractive about her was that she had made redemption seem a possibility rather than a futile suicidal attempt to defy a Daedric Prince.

That, and that long glossy mane of hair that she wore in a mass of braids that swung and slid over the strange dark armour that she wore. When she removed the hood that all but obscured her face and reduced the brightness of her eyes to little more than eerie pinpricks, the paleness of her cheek looked as wondrously soft as the first fallen snow of winter before the onslaught of its cold. And she would be in possession of the kind of looks he fancied on a woman. A firm mouth with a slightly fuller upper lip, wide set eyes that never flinched from a gaze, a high forehead with several light scars along the hairline—the result of running away from a dragon and being stupid enough not to make sure she fell feet first instead of landing on her knees and scraping her head on the floor. When she was deep in thought, she was attractive. When she smiled at him, it was unbearable and all he could think of was throwing her to the floor and shoving her leather chausses along with the breeches she undoubtedly wore underneath and putting his hands on her before he pushed himself inside her.

When she had lain unconscious in the room, he had stood beside her, his mace in one hand while he curled the other into a fist so tight that the nails drew blood on his palm. And then she had flinched in her induced sleep, moaned slightly and before he knew it, he was reaching for her. The civilised part of him insisted it was to ensure she was alright even though she was beyond any aid he could offer. The primal aspect of his was relishing the softness of her skin against the knuckles he ran under her jawline, the smoothness of her hair as he touched her braids. He had been lowering his mouth to savour hers when decency kicked in, undoubtedly Mara's mercy on his corrupted soul, and he practically threw himself away from Aesa. To say he burned with shame and lust would be an understatement. His groin throbbed with an ache that surpassed any he had ever felt and a part of him wanted to crawl back to his companion, to violate her trust and her body.

In the end, Erandur thought loathingly, he had been unable to overcome his own base urges. He had not been able to trust himself. In the end, he did the one thing he knew would prevent himself from hurting her. Leaning against the wall furthest from Aesa, he parted his robes, tore at the laces of his breeches and shoved his hand down and inside to grasp his stiff cock. He gasped, pressing his back against the cold unyielding stone as he stroked himself, careful to keep his eyes closed. But that did not prevent him from imagining her, the trim curves of her body, the way her swift, long-legged gait lent speed and grace to the way she moved, those strong thighs wrapped around his hips as he pumped himself frantically. The wet slap of his skin became the soft sucking noises she made as she pleasured him with her mouth. He barely heard the clatter of his mace on the floor as he dropped his weapon and dug his hand into his thigh, the sound of his panting thick in his ears as he squeezed his fingers tighter, felt the delicious burn gather and spread his legs wider and then he was moaning, so loudly that he bit down on his free hand to suppress the sound. Agony, ecstasy and the fear that she would awaken at that moment and catch him thus debased merged in a wild riot that saw him thrusting uncontrollably into his own hand, his seed running hot down his fingers as his climax sent him to his knees, sweat-slicked and helpless to stop the desperate, uneven stroking of his hand on his cock until the last of his seed had been spent on the damp cotton of his smalls and pants. He had never been so glad of the thick robes when he finally regained his senses. At least all evidence of his embarrassing loss of control had been effectively hidden by the time she finally awakened.

And it was embarrassing, so much so that thinking about it made his head ache. It also sent a fresh surge of lust through his loins and he cursed himself all the way down the hill and on the road for the next hour or so until his erection abated. He was, Erandur gloomily decided, the inept virgin that his ex-friends and now dead enemies had called him.

But he could not help the way he was, nor could he alter his past. Perhaps it had been the first indication of whose disciple he was meant to be, Mara's and not Vaermina's. What was a casual fuck for his childhood friends had been somewhat distasteful to him although he took care to hide his opinions. Then the cultists had recruited him and he had dedicated himself to studying the Prince's ways. Most of the cult consisted of men and he took no pleasure in his own sex. Of the few female recruits they had, none caught his eye. At the Bards College, he had a fellow student, Lisette, whom he had found charming but the fear that she would discover his worship of Vaermina had kept him from making his interests known.

And after that, when Mara had rescued him, he had been determined to atone for his misdeeds until he made some form of restoration. Not in all the years before running into Aesa had he ever been tested so sorely. Perhaps it was a good thing after all that he was so ignorant about the pleasures of the flesh. All he knew had been gleaned from the smug boastings of fellow cultists, sounds in the night which the walls could not keep out and an orgy he had stumbled into and had the good luck of escaping from. If he had actual experience, who knew what he would be capable of or what dreams would come to him in his sleep and invade his reality?

When they finally stopped to make camp for the night in a tiny, thick cluster of trees that was sufficiently far from the beaten path, he realised that Aesa was now watching him with visible concern. He thought of making small talk, forcing a smile, anything to ease her worries but in truth, he was exhausted. His old enemy had been driven back, his nerves were worn from battle and having killed two men who had mentored him while in the service of said enemy, and from finding out that Vaermina had asked for his life in exchange for her artefact. Aesa had spoken of dragon hunters, the Blades, and how he would be a valuable recruit. While he looked forward to the new purpose, he was not looking forward to being separated from her.

"I have Thalmor hunting my every step and Daedric Princes who either want to claim me or kill me," she had explained when accepting his offer. "And then there's the small matter of the dragons," she had quipped, straight-faced as they made their way out of the temple. "It's too much danger for anyone to take on voluntarily."

Quiet, he stared into the fire, not really tasting the mead or the bread and fruit she had pushed into his hands.

"I think you should tell me what's going on now. Is it Vaermina?" Aesa's low voice cut through the space he had deliberately put between them.

"No!" He jerked his gaze from the dancing flames and the way the edges of the wood curled helplessly in the heat before turning to blackened ash. "Mara, no," he repeated again, softer this time. "You need not fear any lingering influence she has over me."

"I'm not going to cut your head off." As always, her directness took him aback and he wondered how transparent his fears were to her. "If she is troubling you then perhaps we could detour and head to the temple of Mara in Riften instead. The priests there should be able to lend their aid and the presence of Mara there is strong. Vaermina would relinquish her hold on you then."

He dropped his eyes back to the fire. He ought to have known she would help rather than harm. "No, it is not her that troubles me."

"Then what does?"

'You do. The fantasies that I have of you. I want to ride you the way I've heard a woman may be ridden. And then I want to take you on the ground, against the trees, know you the way I have never known anyone before in all my life. I want you to kiss me and tell me you will bring me with you wherever you go and I will want you, even after the years brush lines on your face and trade the ebony of your hair for silver.'

The words were fervent, desire so powerful that he bit down on his cheek and pressed his lips together into a thin line. "I'm just tired," he offered instead. Draining the last of the mead, he put the untouched food back into his travelling pack and stood up. "Some sleep will do me good."

He was about to ask her to wake him for the second watch when Aesa got to her feet. She was tall, practically the same height as he was. Framed by the flickering light of the fire and with that look of utter determination on her face, she looked like a force of nature to be reckoned with. And she was, being the Dragonborn, a legend made flesh. She took a step forward and he automatically backed away before stopping and standing his ground.

"I don't think sleep will help," she spoke softly, edging her way towards him. "Maybe something else."

Erandur blinked. His ears must have been mistaken. He could have sworn that she had sounded…suggestive. "Aesa—"

She licked her lips. It was just a quick flick, almost an unconscious act but then she dipped her chin ever so slightly so that she could look at him through her lashes. He knew that look. He had seen it before on the faces of women before they boldly draped themselves over the men they intended on seducing, a silent siren's call that made a man forget mead and friends as he crossed a room to her side. Warmth crept up Erandur's neck and he could feel one of those damnable blushes coming on again. Could it be? Was she interested in…him?

His answer came in the form of her reaching up and pulling the simple ribbons that held her braids in place, the way they fluttered to the ground, the loose waves that flowed over her shoulders just the way he liked it, when he had first seen her in Windpeak Inn.

The woman of his dreams was coming towards him, wreathed in the light of flames and with desire written in every line of her body. Erandur was ecstatic. Erandur was also terrified. He had no experience and he was quite sure from Aesa's bold manner that he was not her first. The realisation might have made him jealous, if he was not so sure that his knees were going to be quaking in a minute.

And that was before she began peeling her armour away. "Oh Mara," he mumbled, inhaling deeply, tearing his eyes from her before looking again as she dropped her gauntlets to the ground, quick fingers unbuckling the belt and unknotting ties that held the rest of her gear in place. When she leaned over to strip off her boots, he became the recipient of a generous display of the rounded tops of her breasts and his mouth went dry.

He could not. He had sworn to eschew pleasures. This was surely a test. Then Aesa straightened and he could see how little the thin shirt hid from his sight. Her soft cotton breeches clung to her hips and legs. Erandur did not know if he groaned aloud or if it was all in his head but somehow, he found the strength to back up a few steps. Aesa was either daft as to his desire to be as far away from her as possible, or she was just going to ignore him. Since she was far from stupid, based on what he knew, he decided that it was a case of the latter. "You have to stop," he rasped, hating that he sounded so weak, so needy. "I swore an oath."

"That you did," she concurred gently. "But you've done your penance. And I think you've suffered enough for a whole day." The corner of her beautiful lips turned up in a mischievous half-smile that bloomed into a full one as his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Suffered?"

"I heard you. In the library. I was awake before you realised it."

For a moment, it felt as thought he would burst into flames, so hot was the blush that it seemed to suffuse his entire face and being. If Mara was the wonderful goddess he thought she was, she would command the earth to swallow him up now. But since no such reprieve occurred, Erandur did the next best thing he could think of.

With a composure he did not know he had, he drew his robes around him and stood his ground. "I do not need your charity," he said haughtily, impressing even himself. Years ago, he had encountered some Thalmor and he doubted that even they could have sounded more stuck-up. Aesa's eyes widened in shock and the fingers toying with the ties on her shirt stilled. Satisfied that he had put a halt to her advances and yet hating himself for so many reasons that he did not think he could count them, Erandur made his first and only mistake that evening.

He turned his back on the Dragonborn.

When she tackled him, he went flying face first into the ground. Before he could recover himself, he found himself bodily hauled across the ground until he was unceremoniously dumped on her bedroll. He would have leapt to his feet. If her hand had not found its way to his groin first.

His groan shattered the silence and Erandur arched, lifting his hips even as she dropped down to sit astride him, her clever fingers squeezing and massaging the hard ridge of his erection. He put up a hand, conceivably to push her off but she seized it and brought it to her lips. "Does this feel like charity?" she murmured as she touched her tongue to his palm, licking hard at the centre and setting his nerve endings on fire. "Or this?" She took the same hand and pressed his damp palm to her breast.

"Oh gods…" His breath hitched in mid-oath and the feel of her softness, of the body that he yearned to hold was enough to drive all thoughts of his oath from his mind. He gripped, he clutched, they both moaned as he palmed her swelling breast and felt the hardened nipple rub against his sensitised skin. "I have never…" The words spilled out as driven by instinct, he adjusted his grip, cupping her more fully, enjoying the weight of her breast in his hand while running his thumb over her nipple.

"You've never what?" Aesa asked breathlessly, settling astride him, her hands busily unknotting the ties of his robe.

Erandur's mouth clamped shut.

"Erandur. You've never what?" she repeated again. He could feel her pulling the ties apart but she made no effort to open his robe. Instead, she tilted her head to the side and an extremely inquisitive expression came over her face.

He should tell her. She would not mind. But his male pride rebelled at the thought and although he opened his mouth, he could not force the words out. Then she surprised him again by leaning down and kissing him.

It was the gentlest sensation he had ever felt, warm, comforting and utterly arousing. She nipped the corners of his mouth, fitted her lips against his, ran her tongue across the seam of his lips until he realised what she was asking and he opened for her so that they could drink of each other, breathe of each other as their tongues met and mated.

When she finally lifted her head, he was pleased to see the pink flush that stained her cheeks, that her breathing was as shallow and quick as his. But he could not fathom the possessive, triumphant look in her eyes. "Mine," she murmured, her voice lower and richer than he had ever heard before. "All mine." Cold air touched his chest as his robes slithered down his body and her nails scored his skin lightly. "Untouched but for me."

There was not time to digest the fact that she knew about his virginity, or that she seemed inordinately pleased by it. As far as he knew, only the male of the species cared about their women being 'unspoiled', as someone had put it to him. There was no way he could have known it was the dragon in her, spoiling for possession, for territory yet unclaimed.

Her hand slid into his hair and their mouths crashed together, teeth nicking lips and he tasted slight copper, did not care whose blood it was because gods, her tongue was inside his mouth, tasting, flicking and then he was in hers, exploring even as they clutched frantically at each other and she rode him, bucking and sliding over his breeches until his he felt he would burst.

He gasped, hands reaching for his ties even as she kissed him down his neck, her teeth pulling at his skin as she sucked so hard he winced even as he worked the laces loose and she lifted herself enough to help him push down the offending material that was getting in the way. Once that was done, he reached for her shirt, heard a loud rip as it caught on her elbow as he was pulling it off. She chuckled but laughter turned into a moan as he clasped her closer, pulling her down so that he could press his mouth hungrily to her breasts, burying his face in them while inhaling the scent of her skin.

"Oh yes," she whispered at his first gentle lick, arching her back and offering herself to him, letting him know it pleased her. "Like that." A lesser man would have chafed at her guidance; Erandur was too busy worshipping this goddess to listen to the so-called advice he had been given before. He ran his tongue over the rosy bud, teasing it as it tightened and swelled, felt a burst of pride inwardly as she shivered and mewled softly, pushing her nipple against his lips before he sucked her slowly into his mouth. He stroked her other breast, running his fingers over the hardened bud and pressing his palm against it before squeezing.

When he tried to roll her over on her back though, she pushed him down gently. "Later," she promised heatedly and any frustration he felt disappeared when she applied her mouth to his skin. "You've done your penance." He shivered as she tongued the outline of his collarbone for he could feel her hands travelling down the bare plane of his stomach, tracing his hipbones before she lightly scratched the tops of his thighs. Everywhere but the one place that screamed for her touch. "Think of this as your reward."

He was about to say that this was all the reward he needed when she swiftly slid herself down his body, letting the sensitive tip of his cock feel the brush of her skin before she blew on it. His hips jerked, he felt something other than her hands touch the sensitive skin of his member and looked down to see her slipping one of the ties of his breeches around the base of his cock. He could feel the pressure of the tightened loop as she knotted it. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, confused, still dazed that this wonderful thing was happening to him, and utterly impatient to see it through to the finish.

"Making it last."

He had no idea what she meant. And suddenly it was the most inconsequential thing in the world when her hot mouth came down on him and she sucked him hard into her wet depths. Erandur could not help it. He screamed, a hoarse and shattered cry that echoed in the stillness of the twilight. Later, he would realise it was her name he screamed, that and Mara's, but at the moment, it only registered in the way he gasped, the stretch of his neck as he writhed against the bedroll, head pressed back against the coarse fur of the pallet, his mouth parted as he moaned, deep and guttural as her tongue rubbed up and down the aching column of his flesh. He felt so hot, so swollen, so undone and when her tongue probed the sensitive groove that crowned the engorged head of his cock, he arched up off the ground, stomach muscles clenching as he slipped his hands into her hair, clumsily trying to push her further down onto him.

Meeting the knowing look in her blue eyes felt every bit as intimate as her mouth around his erection, as watching her watch him as she bobbed her head up and down, slowly at first before she gave in to the urgent pressure of his hands and sped up the strokes of her mouth, her tongue stroking a wet path together with her lips that drove him wild. Aesa had to lean up and press her forearms on his thighs to keep him in place as he eventually fell back on the pallet, his hips jerking and thrusting in an age old rhythm that his body knew ought to ease the unbearable throbbing building up in his pelvis, sooth the trembling strain of his thighs and the quivering of his lower belly. He felt consumed by Aesa, by the pleasure-pain that was tying him into knots and stretching him until he thought he would break.

"Please," he moaned and cried out when she sucked harder. "Oh gods, please Aesa. Now… ugghh...I need to…"

She hummed around his cock and he could have wept as he felt a fierce surge of pleasure that stopped before it could trigger a climax. Yet, when she rose up and pressed her mouth against him so that he could taste himself on her lips, he almost shoved her back down so that she could continue. His hands grasped her hips tightly but she resisted his efforts to pull her down on top of him.

"Tell me what you want." Gentle fingers stroked his light beard, up to his temples and caressed the pointed tips and delicate creases of his ears, making him shiver with delight.

"I want you."

"Not good enough." She licked his ear and he gasped, felt another fierce surge at the base of his cock. The loop around it felt almost too tight and a steady ache, almost akin to pain was beginning to spread from his loins. "Tell me what you really want."

"I want to fuck you." Erandur could not believe the ragged voice that was saying such crude things was his. But he was desperate enough not to stop. "I want to ride you into this pallet. I want to make love to you until we both can't move and then I want to fuck you all over again against the snow, against those boulders, in the stream we passed. I wanted you when I first saw you—"

She went slack in his arms, suddenly pliant and with a fierce triumphant cry Erandur yanked Aesa down hard as he thrust up with all his strength and his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the firm wetness of her inner flesh ease his slide inside, the heat of her body as it closed in around him like a vice. "Oh Mara…"

This time, she let him roll her onto her back, pulled her legs up, drawing them high along the sides of his body as he growled and pounded himself into her as though life itself depended upon it. His hands cupped and pressed into her buttocks, pushing her against him as he strained feverishly against her, eyes shut with his forehead pressed to hers as she murmured words in an ancient tongue beyond his comprehension.

He thought being inside her would ease the ache, not increase it. It did both as he continued to thrust, faster and faster until both their bodies were slick with his sweat and he could smell his own arousal thick in the air. He gripped her harder, relished the way she cried out, the incessant slide of her thighs and calves as she entwined her legs with his, meeting his thrusts. Then she pushed her hand down between them and he felt her nimble fingers catch at the tie, pulling it loose.

And the world exploded in white-hot shards that blinded him even through closed eyes. Fiery pleasure flooded his body, evaporating thought, twisted his hips forward in series of fast, brutal thrusts so that he rammed into her again and again, clutched her to him so hard it had to hurt. This time when he screamed, she caught his mouth in a savage kiss and drank in his pleasure. He felt her fingers rubbing between them and then she was shuddering, clenching, crying out as well as he bore both of them down to the hard ground as he buried himself inside her as deeply as he could while her throbbing walls milked him dry.

Erandur did not know how much time had passed, or if he had passed out. When he lifted his head, the slight wave of dizziness caught him off-guard and he had to lean it down again in the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply as he felt his heart finally stop hammering against his ribs, slowing down gradually and surely. He arched his hips a little, pleased to feel a corresponding shudder from the woman beneath him, to know the most intimate part of her still held him, all of him. A hand touched his head, ran itself through his short, dark hair and he looked up to see a soft smile on Aesa's flushed face. It was dazzling.

'She is dazzling,' he thought sombrely. How else could he feel as though he had claimed something wild and untamable but know he too had been thoroughly claimed by her? There was still a possessive glint in her eye but it was tampered by satisfaction as well.

"That was amazing." She cupped his cheek and arched up to plant a kiss on his lips. He shuddered slightly, returning her kiss as he felt her inner walls flex around him. Although it felt indescribably good to be inside her, his cock felt extraordinarily sensitive, almost to the point of pain. "You'll have to give yourself a rest. I don't want you too worn out to travel. After all, there are still those boulders over there. And we may have to backtrack to the stream but I have a feeling you'll make it worth my while—"

Laughing, he kissed her again, sliding his fingers along her jawline and tracing her ears, returning the favour before he stroked them down her neck. When he looked at her, he knew all the longing in his heart was shining in his eyes and it was hopeless for him to try to hide it. "Aesa…"

She pressed her fingers to his lips, pushed slightly against him so that he understood she wanted to turn on her side. But she took extra care to hold him close, to keep them joined as she snuggled against his side. "I think," she murmured, her words soft and muffled against his neck, "that maybe Sky Haven Temple can wait. I've hardly ever been to this side of Skyrim and maybe something of interest will turn up if we spend some time exploring."

There was no way that she could not feel the jump in his pulse, not when he was holding her against his heart so closely. "Thank you," he whispered, stroking her thick hair as he felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin as she stifled a yawn. Minutes later, she finally fell asleep. Perhaps there was some hope after all. Mara willing, he would follow Aesa to Oblivion and back, or wherever else she had to go. Somehow, he would find a way to convince her that it was safe. In the meantime, he would sleep and for once, he knew the dreams that would come would be sweet.


End file.
